Order of Operations
by furryballsploppedmenacingly
Summary: Tweek POV. Everyone's older. Coming of age, kind of romantic type story I guess.
1. Chapter 1

I trudge through the dirty snow, glaring at the ground in front of me, while Clyde prattles on about some class he's in being too difficult or some shit.

"And she's just been blowing through it as if we've all seen this shit before!"

"You took precalc in high school Clyde. You have seen it all before," Craig drones back at him, gaining a chuckle from Token.

"Well ya, but some of the other students haven't! And like that's the real messed up part. Like it's not fair to them that she's just assuming they know all this logarithm bullshit."

"Wait do you know of other students who are doing bad?" Token asks, genuinely curious.

Clyde pauses long enough for all of us to gather that, no he doesn't know anyone else doing bad. "I mean not exactly, but like I'm sure they are!" No one answers this, which naturally leads to Clyde getting irritated. "And what do you mean by other students Token, huh? I'm not doing bad ok. It's normal to get C's in the weed out classes in college ok? I'm just saying she's making it like, intentionally harder for no reason." He kicks at some ice with his boot in frustration.

"Precalc is a weed out class? That's so strange since most everyone I talked to went straight into calculus," I reply in mock surprise, earning a snort from Craig and a deep laugh from Token.

"Fuck you Tweek. Actually, fuck all of you, alright? Like the other business classes are really hard too ok Tweek. I don't have time for these bullshit useless math classes like you guys do."

Craig jokes back, "oh ya I'm sure thermodynamics or astrophysics or whatever the shit Tweek is taking is way easier than your Intro to Business Communications class Clyde."

"Fuck off Tweek's not in those classes." He pauses for a second. "Wait Tweek you're not right?"

"I'm actually in thermodynamical astrophysics," I reply back with a straight face.

Craig and Token snicker at this. "Ok well I can tell that's not a real class by you guys laughing so I'm not as dumb or gullible as you guys seem to think after all."

"Nothing gets past you," Token says in mock defeat. "Anyways I'm going to my dorm. I'll catch up with you guys later."

"Can I come?" Clyde asks excitedly.

Token rolls his eyes. "Ya sure, whatever. I'll see you guys," Token directs at Craig and me, as he starts to shuffle down a different path, Clyde on his heals chattering about how they can play Super Smash Brothers at his place.

Token dorms. Clyde got an apartment with Cartman and Butters. Or more like Cartman duped Butters and Clyde into subsidizing his rent, though of course Clyde thinks it's "freakin sweet" and that they're going to totally "throw mad ragers" there. Craig and I still live with our parents to save money, which seems like the obvious choice since the campus is only a 30 minute drive from South Park, but Token's rich and Clyde's a moron so I'm not surprised. Craig and I carpool together on the days we have classes on the same days. I drive myself on Tuesdays. On Thursday I take the bus or get a ride from Bebe since my mom needs the car. My mom actually arranged with Bebe's mom to have Bebe drive me in. Ya, evidentially my mom thinks I'm 12 and can't ask someone for a ride without her help.

It's Monday which means it was Craig's turn to drive us in. We continue trudging through the snow, towards the commuter parking lot. Craig's swinging his keys around and humming to himself.

"Did you want to come over today?" Ya Craig, after a long day in class and a 30 minute drive home in your beater car, listening to the static you claim is the radio and your muffler which clearly needs to be replaced, feeling every bump in the road perfectly since you won't fucking get the shocks looked at, ya after all that I want to come by your place and hear your family yelling at each other constantly since they've apparently not been made aware of just ya know, going to the room the person you'd like to speak to is in and talking like a normal human being, as opposed to shouting at the top of their lungs. Like we have cellphones even. Go on and be lazy and call or text each other at least. Like screaming from three rooms away is not a valid form of communication.

"Why don't we go to my place? It's easier to do homework there."

"Cool," he replies, "but we got to stop by my place and check on Stripe first."

"No problem."

We get to Craig's car and he unlocks his door and reaches across to unlock the passenger side door. He throws his bag in the back and I put mine at my feet and clutch my thermos. God it is fucking cold out. He starts the car and the beat muffler protests and freezing air comes blasting out the vents. I lean forward to turn the vents off until the car heats up enough for the heat to kick in. Craig rubs his hands together, presumably waiting to get going until after the car warms up a bit.

I knock his car a lot, but honestly I'd love to have my own car. My mom let's me take hers often, but it's not like mine. I have to ask permission to use it, and as a result we end up in Craig's beater more often than not.

* * *

Craig slams his front door behind us and immediately his mom starts yelling from upstairs.

"Craig?! Is that you?"

"Ya ma! Just stopping by to check on Stripe!"

"What?"

"I said I'm here to CHECK ON STRIPE."

"Oh ok dear! How was school?" I stomp the extra snow off my boots and begin to slip out of my jacket. It still baffles me that this is just regular communication for the Tuckers.

"You're not staying?" Ruby chimes in from the opposite side of the house.

"What?" Craig's mom bellows back. "Did you say something Craig?"

"No it was me mom!"

"Craig dear you're going to have to speak louder I can't understand you!"

I was skeptical Ruby could be any louder, but always one to impress, Rubes screamed, "MOM IT'S ME TALKING!" So now my ears are ringing, which, bright side means I'm losing some of my hearing and maybe one day won't even be bothered by all this shouting. Meanwhile, Craig is completely unfazed, and seems to be in fact rolling his shoulders back in preparation to really speak up on this one, as if perhaps he's worried he'd been mumbling too softly before. Seeing this and the alarming proximity of my ear to his mouth, I grab his arm and shove him towards the stair well.

This thankfully catches him off guard for a moment and stops him from yelling. He is however now staring at me questioningly. "You don't want to yell too loud near Stripe's cage. Guinea pigs have sensitive ears."

"They do?" He looks alarmed. I mean, I don't know. Probably they have sensitive ears right? I never really thought about it. I kind of just speak without thinking sometimes. Or like oftentimes. All the times. Fuck off ok I have ADHD. I have poor impulse control!

"Um," I begin eloquently. I look down at my feet and notice Craig's boots are still on and the snow on them is melting into the carpet. "I um, I don't know actually. I don't know why I said that. Ya. But! You should take your boots off. They're making a whole damp spot in the carpet. You ever step on a wet spot with just socks on? It's the worst. And it's like now you have to change them or walk around with wet sock for what feels like the rest of your life. Ya know?"

He rolls his eyes at me, but steps out of his boots and up the stairs. I follow, but then double back to put his boots in the shoe area. On my way back towards the stairs I'm careful to avoid the wet spot, but didn't consider that his path to said spot was also left damp. And now I have wet sock and want to kill myself.

I bound up the stairs two at a time and throw myself on Craig's bed. I look over at Craig kneeling in front of Stripe's cage while peeling off the aforementioned wet sock. "I'm going to steal a sock."

He ignores me. "So to clarify, you don't actually know anything about guinea pig noise sensitivity?"

"Well, come on anything? I mean, I like to think I know some things. Like I know he hears noises and so, like some noises must bother him right?"

Craig giggles at this and comes to sit on the bed with me, Stripe in hand. "You can just say that you're the one bothered by loud noises."

"Well that'd be a silly thing to say seeing as I wasn't bothered by the noise, and Stripe was. Or probably was. Since we established he's got sensitive ears most likely." I grin at him.

"You're a dork."

"It's pronounced 'dick' Craig. Jesus I can't believe you've been saying it incorrectly like that this whole time. How embarrassing." He giggles again. "You laugh like a girl."

"That's funny because everyone thinks you're the girl in the relationship," he says in his nasally tone while beaming at me.

"I'm going to tell your mom you called me a girl as an insult."

"Good. It will be a good time for me to tell her what you think of her nativity scene. How did you put it again? That she 'really pussied out not getting any fake snow'?"

"Ok not fair! I thought it was a Christmas village set up. I didn't know it was a Jesus thing. And that was like four years ago."

"That was literally last weekend."

"Really? It feels like four years ago. I guess it's that expression people are aways saying, ya know? Time really does slow down to a grueling halt when you're having fun."

"No one says that."

"Oh no you're right I messed it up. It's that every moment will feel like an eternity in hell when you're with Craig Tucker. You haven't heard that?" He pretends to glare back at me. "Actually now that I give it some thought, people probably don't say it around you since it's about you and all." I suck air through my teeth and look away. "Awkward."

"Hm, well maybe I'll just stay here then if you hate my company so much."

"Good call. You could probably find some cotton balls to give that downer of a Christmas village some snow while you're here too. And I don't want to step on any toes, but like who's idea was it to have a manger in their Christmas village anyways?" He gives me the finger. "Ooph, the manger was your idea wasn't it honey?"

"Don't call me honey," he warns. I clutch my heart in mock agony. "What's up with you today?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Like you're always a spaz, but you're like extra today."

I roll off the bed and hop onto my feet. I take a few long strides towards the door. "I should visit with Rubes. Like while I'm here and all."

"Tweek." I look up in acknowledgment, but my hands still going towards the doorknob.

"Tweek, don't walk out while I'm talking to you. You're being exceptionally hyperactive and impulsive. You didn't take your medication, did you?"

"I took the Fluxo-whatever crap last night. But no I didn't take the morning stuff this morning."

"The morning stuff's for ADHD right? And the nighttime is for OCD?"

"Ya, so I took the OCD stuff."

"Why didn't you take the ADHD stuff?"

I let out an exaggerated sigh. "Like the OCD's the big issue. I don't see why I have to take the other stuff every day."

"Because your doctor told you to. And you agreed it was probably for the best ever since you got arrested," he drones back in his uninterested monotone.

"Well I can change my mind," I retort back.

Aw, now Craig looks annoyed. "Do whatever you want Tweek. You're the one that said you don't like how you are when you're off it. You said that impulse decisions aren't you're own decisions and the medication makes you feel like you're finally in control of your choices. You're the one that told me how tiring it is to feel all hyper and twitchy or whatever. Do whatever the fuck you want. I was just asking."

"I'm sorry. And you're right. I don't like it. Even just sitting in your room is making me feel caged or something. Like I need to run around in circles or start a band or do a back flip. It's like everything is boring and too slow and my mind is going too fast to do anything of use. I don't know." I come back to sit cross-legged on the bed facing him. "It's like a part of me wants to just be better on my own. And it feels like I can. Like after three days on the meds, it's like I totally forget what it was like to live without them. And I just feel like ok, I can stop now. There was never anything wrong with me. But then I do stop and I remember that there is. And it's annoying. And the reason I can't seem to ever learn that lesson is the same reason I'm on the meds in the first place. Severe fucking ADHD and the spotty working memory that comes with it, and it just," I can feel myself getting emotional. No, no, no. "It just," I croak out, "it makes me feel like such a failure. Like I'm being treated and I'm on the medication, but it's still there and it's just never going away."

"What's never going away?"

"The racing mind! Feeling like I always have to be physically moving. The inability to remember just the most basic details of conversations. The stupid and embarrassing impulsive shit I do without even thinking. The insomnia. The obsessions and compulsions. Like it's all so fucking tiring and I'm supposed to sit here and be hopeful about it, but it's not going away and I'm not even sad about that really! I'm just fucking tired. Like why do I have to do this every day."

"Do what? Take your medication?"

"No! I don't mind that to be honest much. I just forget I need it and then it's like embarrassing to say that."

"Then what don't you want to do every day?" I stare at him. Shit. I have literally no idea what I was talking about. Every day? What don't I like to do every day? Did I say I didn't like taking the medication every day? Why would I say that? "You said people want you to stay hopeful and you're not sad, but you're tired and you don't get why you have to do this every day. Do what every day?"

"Oh right! Exist. Why do I have to exist like every day for the foreseeable future."

"What like you want to die?"

"Not really, no. I just find existing like it's such a thing. It's this whole hassle and it's every day and I don't really get why we're doing it at all."

"So like you're a nihilist?"

I make a face. "Gay. I'm not like insisting there's no point to anything. I'm just not sure what it is if there is one. I mean, I sort of hope there is no point. That'd be another whole fucking ordeal if there is a point, ya know?"

"Ya that makes sense."

"I like to think it all ends when we die. Or like we at least catch a break before the next thing."

"When you die you stop existing."

I laugh. "I like how you say that like as if you have anyway to definitively know that."

"There's no proof that there's a god or an afterlife."

"That doesn't mean there isn't something. And like I said, I sort of hope there isn't anything. But there could be. Like I don't know."

"I don't think anything happens. It doesn't make any logical sense."

"That's hilarious coming from the kid that tries to prove mathematical statements with examples. You know an example isn't a proof Craig."

"What does that have to do with an afterlife?"

"Like you tried to argue that there was some ambiguity over the order of operations. Basic arithmetic isn't a feeling Craig, it follows a logical order. You being unable to grasp it doesn't mean it doesn't exist. If we can't grasp what happens to our existence after we die, then the logical thing is to say that we don't know."

He rolls his eyes at me. "You're just trying to start an argument now because you're bored because you didn't take your medication."

"Solid point." It is. I am bored and that's definitely why I'm trying to have this stupid off-tangent argument. I'm a little disappointed he didn't dispute that last claim I made, as I planned on using it as a a segway into my theory that we reincarnate into all the different animals in the universe. Like including alien animals and stuff. Except that some people choose to wait to reincarnate so their spirits can lurk around for a bit. I mean, I still hope we just die for real when we die. Like eternal existence sounds awful. But being a bunch of alien animals and alien animal ghosts would be like my next top choice. "You want to go to my place now."

"Yup!" He grins and stands up. "You're such a handful," he says jokingly as he approaches me. He leans toward me on his way to the door and pecks me on the cheek. He keeps walking right out the door in front of me and he's continuing to talk as if he didn't just kiss my face. "Did you want to get food on the way?" Like does he not know he just kissed my face? "I haven't eaten like all day." This is insane. He's just strolling down the stairs like nothing happened! "What are you in the mood for? Want like Chinese? We can have that delivered even."

I stare after him in silence for a moment, but the cheapskate in me can't just let that last suggestion slide without comment. "Um, uh delivery fees. It's a waste of money."

He laughs. "I know, I know. 'That's how they get you, Craig!' But it's really not a big deal to me. I'll pay it. What do you want? Tofu something? Are you just going to stand in my doorway?"

By now he's stopped about halfway down the staircase to wait for me. "Ya, ya, um sorry! I'm coming." I shuffle after him while staring at the floor.

"Dude you good? Here call in the order for us and we can stop on the way to your place then. I mean I still don't think delivery fees are a scam, but if it gives you peace of mind, then we'll pick it up."

He thinks this is about a delivery fee? Jesus Christ. Ok if he's playing it cool like nothing happened, then so will I. "Cool, cool."

"Nice." He pumps his fist in the air. He makes direct eye contact. "And honey," he winks and continues on, "dinner's on me tonight." I'm staring after him in shock, but he's already looking the other way, putting his boots on. It's my thing to call him honey and it's supposed to bother him. He's not supposed to reciprocate and look into my fucking eyes. And wink. What the shit was that?! And I'm not supposed to like him doing that, am I?

What the fuck is going on.


	2. Chapter 2

I bust into Kenny's room, and he immediately groans. "Who let you in?"

"Karen. I got to talk to you Kenny."

"Tweek, dude it's like 6 AM."

"It's actually nine." I flip on the overhead lights.

He hides his head under his pillow. "Whatever it's too fucking early. Turn those off."

I flick them off and take a swig from my thermos. "They are kind of harsh. Here I'll just open the curtains instead."

He hurls a pillow in my direction, but I dodge it because I'm awesome and throw the curtains open. He's sitting up now to glare at me. "Why the fuck are you here?"

"I told you I wanted to talk." I toss him a sweatshirt since he looks cold. He's still glaring at me but he shoves it over his head regardless. "Want me to make you coffee?" I ask him soothingly. More glaring. "I'll take that as a yes." I sing-song at him before heading back downstairs to the kitchen.

I'm spooning coffee grounds into the filter when he finally comes stumbling down. He hardly acknowledges my existence before continuing on down into the basement. I hear the tv go on. My thinking is to let him have a cup of coffee before I start talking. I always forget how much everyone else seems to hate mornings.

I bring two cups of black coffee down the wooden stairs and sit on the other side of the futon, facing the tv. He's got some youtube video on about the news. I pass him one of the coffees and he immediately gulps some down. "This tastes like shit."

I sip at it and agree. "Ya it does." We both sit like that staring at the tv, drinking coffee for a few minutes. Kenny lights up a cigarette. He turns towards me to blow a bunch of smoke in my face. "The fuck dude?"

He giggles. "You woke me up early, so fuck you. What do you want anyways?"

"Well," I start. Now that I'm sitting here watching Kenny ash into an old beer can, I feel kind of stupid. "um, I don't know I guess it's kind of stupid now that I think about it."

He slouches down and puts his feet up on the cardboard box functioning as their coffee table.

"Well you already woke me up so tell me."

"It's about Craig." He nods, but doesn't look up. "He like kind of kissed me a few days ago."

"How does someone kind of kiss you?"

"Well it was like just on the cheek." I hate talking about this stuff. It makes me feel so uncomfortable.

"Ok, so what?"

"So what? That's weird isn't it?"

"Eh. Aren't you guys like dating anyways?"

"We pretended to date in fourth grade! And a little afterwards."

He laughs. "You were together in high school Tweek. You don't pretend to date someone for what, ten years? That's ridiculous."

"It's not ridiculous," I argue back.

He snubs out his cigarette and spits into the beer can. I make a face. "Did you ever break up with him?"

"We were never really together!"

"So, no?" I stay silent. "Look Tweek, I don't know what you and Craig are or what not. And I don't really care. I'm just saying that if you say you're with someone for years and you hang out constantly, then even if you said it was pretend back when you were ten or whatever, there's a decent chance they won't see it that way anymore." He shoves his coffee mug at me. "Get memore, will you?"

I wordlessly take it and head up the stares, thinking about what he said. When I come back down, he's got some cartoon playing. I shove the coffee at him. He accepts it and starts drinking it without taking his eyes off the tv. "I just don't really know what to do about it." This gets him to glance over at me for a second.

"What do you want to do about it?"

"I don't know."

"Well are you gay?"

"I'm bisexual."

"Niice," Kenny says with a wink at me. I give him the finger. "Does Craig know that?"

"Ya."

"So just to get this straight, you pretended to date a guy for years. And what, it was pretend because you both said you weren't really gay I presume, ya? And then you told him you were bisexual. And you continue to hang out constantly. And I've heard you call him honey. And you never actually ended your fake relationship thing and neither of you dated anyone else. Am Iright?"

After a few seconds, I nod. "Ya, that's about right."

"Ok, Tweek," he looks over at me, "Craig probably thinks your together. Like to some extent at least." He pulls out his phone and starts tapping away at the screen, seemingly ignoring me.

"Ok, well what do I do?"

"Dunno."

"Neither do I." He's continuing to tap at the screen. "Dude, I came over for your help."

He laughs and throws his phone down on the futon. "I am helping."

"No you're not."

He shrugs. Annoyed, I grab the remote from his side of the couch and change it back to the news-type youtube videos channel. I select a video and click play. Kenny seems unaffected. He just shrugs and lights up another cigarette.

* * *

I hear footsteps above our heads. I assume it's Kenny's sister or mom or something. That is until until Kenny looks over and smirks at me. "I told you I was helping," he says.

I feel panicked all of a sudden and before I can ask what he means, I see Craig trudge down the stairs. "Hey guys," he says in his nasally tone.

"Sup Craig." Kenny hops up. "I was just about to hop in the shower. You guys can chill down here 'til I'm out." He paces up the stairs. I hear him close the basement door behind him even.

Fucking dick.

Craig comes over and relaxes where Kenny was just sitting. He throws his legs up on the cardboard coffee table and looks over at me. "So. Kenny said you wanted to talk to me."

"He did?"

"Uh huh," Craig affirms, shifting his hat around to scratch at his hair. "So what'd you want to talk about?"

"Nothing."

"K," Craig replies, looking entirely unaffected. He reaches for my coffee cup and chugs the rest of the lukewarm liquid. "This tastes like shit."

I stare at him for a moment before blurting out, "you kissed me."

"Ok."

"Ok?"

He blinks. "I don't know what you're getting at."

"Why did you kiss me?"

"Are you mad? I won't do it again, sorry. Can I see the remote?"

"What? No! No, you cannot see the remote. Answer my fucking question."

"Shit, you are mad."

"I'm not mad! I just don't get why you did it."

He shrugs. "I don't know. I felt like it."

"Well what do you like me or something?"

He scratches at his hair again. "Um, ya. I mean kind of. I mean, aren't we like sort of together anyways? And it was on the cheek. What's the big deal? You didn't seem upset before. This was like days ago, why are you mad now?"

"I'm not mad. You see us as together?"

He groans. "I don't know, Tweek, I mean ya, kind of? I don't think about it much. You don't? I mean we were together and we never really talked about it much. I don't know. I didn't think it was like an issue to you."

"I'm not saying it's an issue! I'm just confused!"

"Ok well what do you want me to do about it?"

I rub the palms of my hands at my eyes. "I don't know! Nothing! I came to ask Kenny for advice or something and I guess he told you to come over."

He makes a grab for the remote and I hit his arm away. "Ow." Stupid fucking nasally monotone.

Fucking asshole doesn't even seem affected by this conversation at all. Just wants the fucking remote like it matters what's playing in the background. Motherfucking, ya know what no. We're doing this.

"No I lied. I do want you to do something. We're talking about this."

"Ok."

"Like right now."

"Ok."

"Stop just fucking saying ok."

"Ok." I make a move to hit him again and he puts his arms up in front of himself. "Relax dude, I mean ok we can talk and I won't just say ok, ok?"

"Well talk."

"Um, ok. About what?"

"What the fuck do you think?"

"Ok, I mean like what about it though?"

"Everything."

He groans and pulls his hat over his eyes. "You really are a fucking handful dude."

I choose to ignore that last comment. "Why did you, ya know?" I'm avoiding saying the word. It feels like too much and I don't even know what it's too much of.

"I told you, I felt like it."

He's still got his hat pulled down over his eyes. "But why did you feel like it?"

"Don't be an asshole." We're both silent for a moment before he shoves his hat up to glare at me. "I like you. I thought that was obvious. Like I told you even in fourth grade that I have to be myself. That I can't date someone and pretend I'm someone I'm not. And then I dated you. How was that not obvious?"

"You liked me for that long?" I ask softly.

"Eh, don't make it into a thing. Ya I've sort of liked you since then. I mean like we dated. I don't see how this is news to you, like we used to hold hands and take gay trips to the amusement park and shit."

"Ya, but we were like pretending."

"You don't pretend to date someone for years," he says looking annoyed for a moment. Annoyed morphs back into his neutral expression, but not before flickering to sadness for a brief second. He continues. "I mean I don't. Look dude it's cool. I mean you actually never did reciprocate affection much, but I thought you were just like that. Just not very touchy and affectionate. And I knew that we weren't exactly dating, but we seemed to be something. And you started calling me 'honey' constantly and like ya, I know you were messing with me, but it also seemed like flirting. Maybe I wanted you to like me, and so it seemed like flirting. But I see now that it wasn't and you don't like me like that so it's ok. I won't kiss you or whatever again and you can stop yelling at me. Now can we please just drop it," he ends in a way that makes it clear he's not looking for me to actually answer.

His face is all red and he's looking everywhere but at me. He grabs at the remote, successfully this time since I'm too shocked to stop him. He switches it to the same cartoon Kenny had on before. "I'm sorry," I mumble. He gives no indication that he heard me.

I fiddle with my sweatshirt strings for what feels like an hour, but couldn't be more than 20 minutes based on our location in this episode. My brain's screaming at me to 'do something, do something, DO SOMETHING', but I have no idea what to do and it feels like I'm messing this up, but I'm not even sure what it is that I'm messing up.

Craig's face is back to its normal color, and he appears fully engrossed with this show. Like I'm not even in the room. He reaches up to pull his hat off his head and I'm suddenly very aware of his hand and how it's limp alongside his lap. It's like a few inches away from my own hand and my face heats up at the memory of him saying we held hands. And the implication that he liked me and that's why he held my hand. Like I can't just stop staring at his hand. It's right there. I could just reach out at any time and—"Stop staring at my crotch."

My eyes go wide. "I wasn't!"

"Sure you weren't."

"I really wasn't! I was staring or, um, just looking really, at your hand."

He lifts his hand and inspects it. "Is there something on it?"

"Um, well no."

He puts it back near his lap. "Ok then why are you looking at it?"

He's making eye contact with me now and my stomach pulls in a weird way. Like I might throw up, but it feels exciting. Like it could feel amazing. Which doesn't make sense since I hate throwing up and it always burns my throat and gets in my nose. So it feels more like the anxiety I get in my stomach during compulsive episodes, but I don't want it to go away like I would with a compulsive episode. And the obsessive thought of 'do something, do something, DO SOMETHING' is looping through my brain, but it's different than my other obsessive thoughts and I have no idea how to acknowledge it, and I'm just staring at him like a weirdo.

He gives up and returns his attention to the tv, and I can't take it. I grab for his hand, but I wasn't paying enough attention and now my hand's slamming down on the remote and the tv screen goes blue, saying it's ready for HDMI input. And Craig's looking at me confused, and I double down and grab for his hand again and get it this time. But now I'm more so forcefully gripping his fingers than holding his hand, and I knock down the coffee mug with my other arm during this maneuver. I hear it clank onto the cement floor, but it doesn't sound shattered exactly, so that's good right? I can glue it if it's only chipped a little. Maybe it didn't even chip? And maybe I should kill myself? That suddenly seems like a really sweet alternative to this clusterfuck of events. Ya it's settled. I have to kill myself now.

"Tweek, um why are you gripping my hand like that?"

"I'm not gripping it, I'm holding it."

"Right. Um, why are you doing that then?"

"I'm being affectionate!" I blurt out. Yup, definitely have to kill myself now.

"Oh. Oh! Ok, um does that mean um..." he trails off.

He looks really uncomfortable. Like he's wincing. "Do you not like it?"

"Oh, no I do! It just kind of hurts."

"Oh I'm sorry," I immediately release his hand and look away. God my face feels like it's on fire.

I feel him reach over and lace our fingers together. "Here, that's better." He squeezes my hand and it feels like the floor of my stomach has just dropped out. I feel like there's not enough air in this basement. Like I can't breath properly. I can tell he's looking at me in my peripheral, but I'm pretty sure I'll suffocate if I turn to look back at him. "I'm sorry Tweek, but what does this mean? And, um why are you breathing like that?" Suave, Tweek. You can't even hold the guy's hand without hyperventilating Mom was right. I am 12. "Tweek?" Jesus Christ, I have to say something. Anything, just SOMETHING Tweek, like just this once don't be a giant weirdo. Just say something.

"Um, uh what?" Nailed it.

"Why are you breathing like that? Are you feeling ok?"

"I'm just nervous! How is Kenny still in the shower? Who takes showers this long? Do you think maybe he was kidnapped? Should we check on him?"

"I don't think Kenny was kidnapped."

"There's some sick people out there Craig!"

"Right. I'm going to let go of your hand now because I don't think you're handling this well."

"I'm handing it fine," I argue back tightening my grip on his hand.

He squirms to get it out of my grasp for a moment before giving up. "Tweek, it's not an insult. I'm just saying you're nervous and it's probably not helping."

"Who says I'm nervous?" I reply back angrily.

"You did. Like five seconds ago." Oh. Ya, that's right. "Ok we can keep holding hands, but loosen your grip man. You're cutting off my circulation." I loosen my grip a bit. "See, now you look even more freaked out."

"I'm not freaked out, ok? I like it."

He looks amused which makes my stomach shift around in that weird way again. "You like it, huh?" I nod. "What do you like, Tweek?" I can feel myself blushing.

"You know," I mumble.

Craig giggles. "You can't say it, can you?"

"I can."

"Ok then say it." I stare at him and I'm really trying to just say it. Like I'm telling my mouth to just say it, but it's not listening and it feels like my face is on fire. Craig giggles again. "Oh my god you're so cute. You're not unaffectionate are you? You're just like a nervous little kid about this stuff. That's adorable."

"I'm not a k-kid," I stutter back, but it's hard to make myself sound serious because of the weird jolt I felt from him calling me cute. Like that feeling when your foot falls asleep and you move it too quickly, and it feels weird and tingly. It's awful, but makes me want to smile and hear him say it again and it's freaking me out. Oh my god, I am a kid. But not really. Like I'm an adult. I look at porn for Christ's sake. Why is this freaking me out so much? We're just holding hands. It's not a big deal. We're holding hands and I'm a goddamn adult. I should be able to say were holding hands out loud. I should be able to kiss him and—ok no that's probably too far. No, no goddammit that's not too far. I should be able to kiss a boy if I want to and he wants to. We're all adults here. And I can say that we're holding hands out loud because I'm not a kid. And I can kiss him after that. Yup, it's settled. This is happening. "We are," I pause, "holding hands. Yup. Just two dudes. Holding hands. That is what we are doing and it's going great. And saying it out loud is perfectly ok with me. I'm not freaking out at all."

"Ya, you seem really relaxed."

"Because I am."

"Mhm." I hear the door knob click to open and I let out a legitimate yelp.

There's a pause. And then, "uh what was that?" comes Kenny's voice from the top of the stairs. "Actually, don't tell me. I don't want to know. Stan's coming through. We're gonna drink and watch the last season of Game of Thrones since we both have tomorrow morning off. So like put clothes on or whatever. We'll be down in a few."

My eyes go wide and I feel so embarrassed and in an attempt to resolve this I blurt out, "we're wearing clothes! We were just holding hands!"

There's silence for a beat before Kenny replies mockingly "niice," putting extra emphasis on the 'i' sound. Him and Craig burst out laughing at this. Kenny promptly shuts the door, but I can still here him laughing to himself. Asshole. I give Craig the finger, and he laughs harder.

He releases my hand and stands up and I feel weirdly disappointed."I'm a grab a beer. You want one?"

"Ya."

He stares down at me and I find it hard to sustain eye contact. He giggles, and before I can register what's happening, he bends down and gives me a quick kiss on the lips. I stare wide eyed up at him with my mouth hanging open. He chuckles and hums that I'm "so cute" before turning around and heading up the stairs to grab our beers.

Which is good because I could really use a beer to calm my nerves right about now. I jumped to my feet. My legs felt wobbly, but I paced back and forth regardless. I felt restless. Before I thought about what I was doing, I was calling out "Karen" loudly. Incidentally, I find myself doing things before I've thought about them often. Especially when I'm nervous.

"She's upstairs dude," I hear Kenny call from the kitchen.

I take the stairs two at a time, nod at Kenny and Craig without slowing pace, round the corner and bound up the stairs towards Karen's room. I stop at her doorway and fervently dart my eyes around her room looking for her. "You look like a crazy person," she mumbles from, the closet?

"You're the one sitting in a closet."

"I was looking for what to wear and then I got a text so I sat down. Now what do you want?"

"This lack of hospitality from you and your brother. It's unbelievable." She rolls her eyes. I come in and sit cross legged across from her. "Who texted you?"

"Your mom. Last night wasn't enough for her I guess."

"Gross." She laughs. "Seriously, who texted you."

"Nah seriously, what do you want?"

"I want to know who you're texting."

"Ya? You came busting into my room like a psycho because on the off chance I was texting someone, you wanted to know who it was?"

"Mhm."

"This about Craig?"

"No!" I blurt out. She stares at me. "Kinda."

"What about it?" I shrug. "This about the holding hands thing?"

"You heard that?"

She grins wickedly. "Yup." I sigh. "Look kid—"

"I'm older than you."

She glares. "Anyways, if you like him then go for it. I know everything is 'too much pressure' for you all the time, but this isn't that big of a deal. I can already see you're working this into a bigger deal than it is in your head. Just relax and enjoy it and if it doesn't work out," she shrugs, "then whatever. No reason not to give it a go."

"That makes sense." Her phone chimes and she picks it up and starts texting rapidly. "Who are you texting anyways."

She looks over at me and grins mischievously. "Ike."

"Broflovski? Isn't he like 12?"

She glares. "He's only a year younger than me."

"You're thirteen?"

"Fuck off you know he's not 12. You're the 12 year old here. Having a panic attack over holding somebody's hand."

"Low blow."

"What difference does it make? Not like your balls have dropped yet."

"Does Ike know how charming you are?"

"Ya I called and told him while I was fucking your mom last night."

"Ya? You made a phone call while fucking my mom?"

"You wish."

"What? That doesn't make any fucking sense."

"Neither did your mom. Last night."

I laugh. "You're a loser. I'm going back down to hang out with your brother."

"Good."

I roll my eyes and hop up. "Bye Karen. Thanks for the advice."

She smiles. "Anytime."


End file.
